


How far is Eorzea from the Free Marches?

by xxMad_Donaxx



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, F/M, Interspecies Relationship(s), M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6913876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxMad_Donaxx/pseuds/xxMad_Donaxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two men find themselves in unfamiliar places with unfamiliar people after a bright flash of light. </p><p>A crossover of my two favorite games born of a desire to introduce my Miqo'te, a cat boy for you DA folks, to my favorite cat lover. It sort of snowballed and the idea of putting Carver in Eorzea was too good to pass up. Not sure how explicit this will get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The blinding light faded and Vincent shook his head. He felt the healing magic from Eos, the fairy who helped him, and some of the sharp pain in his head subsided. There were still several spots in his vision so he crouched down on his toes, ears alert for dangerous noises. What he heard instead were voices.

“Andraste’s flaming knickers!”

“There’s Anders. Varric? Carver?”

“Right here Hawke.”

“What was that? Carver?”

“Carver seems to have… shrunk.”

“And grown… cat ears? Maker what a huge wisp.”

Vincent rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times. Circled around him were three people, Hyurian most likely even though one was much shorter and stockier than the other two. Staves poked up over the shoulder of the tall ones and he could see the stock of a gun over the short one’s shoulder. Wary he stood and took a step back. Even more troubling was the fact he couldn’t find the people he’d been traveling with. These folk were likely adventures but they might easily be brigands. No one else would have reason to be in a cave deep in the Black Shroud.

“Hello,” one of the mages said holding a hand to his chest. “I’m Garrett Hawke.” He gestured at the tall blonde man beside him. “This is Anders, and the dwarf is Varric.”

“Dwarf?” Vincent said frowning.

“You’ve never heard of dwarves?” Garrett said his eyes wide in shock.

“Cat ears,” Anders said flatly. “You do see the cat ears? They’re twitching.”

“Yes I see the ears,” Garrett said in exasperation.

“Please excuse these two,” the short one said. “It’s been a long day of demons and skeletons. Varric Tethras. You didn’t happen to see another human, little shorter than Hawke. Short black hair, carrying a big sword…?”

“Vincent,” he said his frown deepening. “No, and why are my ears so fascinating?”

“We’ve never seen a person with cat ears,” Garrett said also frowning. “What happened to Carver?”

“Who’s Carver?” Vincent asked.

“My brother,” replied Garrett. “He was standing where you are, looking at something on the floor.”

Eos flew close and spoke into his ear. Vincent squatted down again, this time searching the oddly even floor of the cave. The bracelet he’d found, and picked up, was whole but not undamaged. The blue crystal gem set into the silver was cracked from one end to the other. He looked up at the people around him and hoped fervently that this was a bad dream.

“I think….” Vincent began, his tail lashing back and forth.

Anders emitted a loud squeak that startled him to his feet, book open and ready in his right hand and the bracelet clutched in his left. His ears had flattened back and the hair on his tail stood on end, making his normally sleek fur look poufy. Before he could figure out what had pulled the sound from the tall mage Anders’ head snapped to the side, his expression morphing quickly from excitement to wariness.

“Darkspawn,” he said grimly.

“Makers Breath,” Garrett muttered. “That’s the way out too. I don’t suppose you can fig… err. This isn’t a fantastic time to be reading.”

“It helps me focus my spells,” Vincent replied with a scowl. “If you three can kill these creatures I’ll keep us alive.”

He slipped the bracelet on and cast protect on his new, if odd, party. They exchanged looks but the sounds coming from down the hall caught their attention. Vincent froze for a moment in horrified disgust as the creatures came into view. Some moved like men but the resemblance ended there. None of them had hair and some looked as if their skin had partially rotted away. Their weapons were filthy and in serious disrepair. Only one had a full set of armor. The rest either had pieces of sets or none at all. It looked as bad as the weapons.

The creatures ran down the hallway towards them. Garrett, Anders and Varric formed a line in front of him as he cast succor. Garrett waved at them and those he could see were yanked backwards. Anders hands gained a green aura as he gestured. The floor under the darkspawn turned green and any caught in it froze in place. Ice flew from the staves of both mages and Varric’s weapon shot arrows instead of bullets. Vincent realized it was a crossbow rather than a gun.

That was when the stench hit him. Vincent’s stomach rolled lazily and he put an arm over his nose. It smelled worse than a Morbol’s breath and there seemed no way to avoid it. The men in front of him showed no signs that they were aware of the horrible odor. Fire flew from one staff and lightning from the other, Varric talking loudly over the sound of his crossbow. Vincent did his best to ignore it.

More of the creatures surged around their fallen fellows. This group was lifted off of their feet and slammed back to the floor, followed quickly by a large fireball in the center before they could stand. Yet more appeared and some of these made it up to their defensive line. He saw more spells he didn’t recognize as he cast spells he was now positive his new companions wouldn’t recognize. Finally the endless tide abated and Vincent grimaced at the burned flesh that had been added to the already fetid stench of the darkspawn.

“I can’t feel any more,” Anders panted. “We should probably leave. And quickly.”

“Agreed,” Varric said turning towards him, expression puzzled. “What sort of mage are you?”

“I’m a Scholar,” Vincent said closing his book with a snap. “And I could ask your friends the same. I’ve never seen spells that lift or lightning that jumps from one target to the next.”

“Let’s discuss this on Sundermount,” Garrett said. “Carver is obviously not here anymore and I’d rather avoid more unwanted company.”

“Demons, undead and darkspawn are more than enough for one day,” Anders said with a curt nod.

Garrett turned and started through the frozen and smoldering remains followed by Anders and Varric. He beckoned Vincent to come with and he carefully started picking his way through the mess as well, trying to breath shallowly.

“What was the squeal about Blondie?” Varric asked.

“I did not squeal,” Anders huffed.

“Please,” Garrett said grinning. “You squealed.”

Anders glared at them for a moment before sighing. “Maybe a little,” he said with an unconvincing indifferent shrug.

“So?” Varric said. “Why?”

“He has a tail,” Anders said with a wide grin and a look back.

Vincent frowned, the appendage in question moving lazily as he walked. He wondered just where he’d ended up.

*

“Who are you?” Carver demanded. He looked up at the green skinned man towering over him and swallowed hard. “ _What_ are you?”

The man snorted and crossed his thick arms over his broad chest. There was an axe slung across his back that Carver doubted he could have lifted never mind wielded. Standing to one side of this giant was a woman with green hair and what looked like white horns sprouting from the side of her head. Her skin was light brown and he could see white patches on her forehead and neck that looked scaly. The color of her eyes matched the color of her hair and seemed to glow a bit in the dim cavern. The bow she had strapped to her back was almost as tall as she was.

“You are very rude.”

Carver followed the sound of the feminine voice and found the shortest person he’d ever seen looking imperiously up at him. Her expression and the way her fists rested on her hips squashed any notion that this person was a child. Any dwarf would have loomed over her never mind the green giant she stood next to. She might reach his kneecaps if she stood on her toes.

“Lulu,” said the archer soothingly. “What’s your name adventurer?”

“Carver Hawke,” he said looking from one to the other. He focused on the green haired horned woman, with some difficulty. “Where am I? Who are you… people?”

“What did _you_ do with Vincent?” the green man rumbled irritably. “He was right there before that flash and now you’re right there.”

“I didn’t…” Carver began angrily. He took a step back and held out his hands. “Look. I was just helping my brother. We ended up in an abandoned thaig. I picked up an amulet and now I’m here.” Carver looked at the three fantastical people before him and added in a mutter, “Having a nightmare I hope.”

“Thaig?” said the horned woman with a puzzled expression.

“Underground dwarven cities,” he said irritably. “In the Deep Roads…”

“What are you talking about?” she interrupted incredulously. “The only underground cities are ruins. I’ve been to Ishgard and I can assure you, there’s nothing deep about any of the roads anywhere in Eorzea.”

“Eorzea?” Carver said with a puzzled frown.

“Is this the amulet?” the short woman, Lulu, said rising from a squat next to his feet.

She held up the silverite necklace by the blue pendant. It seemed to be the same but the blue crystal was now cloudy and opaque when it had been clear. He squatted down and took the thing from her, noticing that she seemed to have no pupil in the center of her large irises. While that was certainly strange it was no worse than a man who had green skin or a woman with horns and scales. Carver clenched it in a fist and sighed.

“How far is Eorzea from the Free Marches?” he said as he stood. The blank looks they gave him were a little disheartening.

“Perhaps we should head out,” Lulu said after a moment of silence. “Since we seem to have lost our healer.”

“I’ll bet he’s in this Free Marches place,” the green haired woman said. “I’m Willow and you can call the big fellow here Oak. You should come with us Carver.”

“You’d leave me here?” Carver said in amazement.

“You know how to use that thing don’t you?” Oak said nodding once at the sword hilt sticking up over his shoulder. Carver glared up at him and he snorted again. “Then what’s the problem?”

“I have no idea where I’m at,” said Carver through clenched teeth.

“Let’s head out,” Willow said gesturing down the tunnel. “We can camp and decide what we’re doing with a full stomach.”

Oak shrugged, his armor clanking and started off with Lulu walking quickly beside him. Willow smiled and nodded encouragingly. Carver started after them, stopping seconds later to rub his eyes. A tail protruded from Willow’s backside, long and white. It looked like the scaly patches on her neck and forehead with sharp spikes at the end. It slowly undulated from side to side as she walked. The amulet went in a pocket as he tried not to stare. He hurried to catch up, snapping his mouth shut with a click of his teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A morbol, for anyone not familiar with Final Fantasy, is a large plant monster with a huge mouth. It's signature attack is called "Bad Breath". It usually doesn't do much damage but all the status effects it inflicts will kill you in a hurry.


	2. Chapter 2

At some point the cave had lost its structured look and began to look more like a proper cave. Stalagmites stretched towards stalactites that hung from the ceiling. Moss grew on the uneven walls and the illumination dimmed to the lit crystals at the end of the mages’ staves and the light from Eos’ glow following behind him.

Conversation had died shortly after their encounter with the disgusting creatures Anders had called Darkspawn. Vincent tried to puzzle out how they had lit the ends of their weapons as they led the way out. Upon leaving their glowing staves went dark and he looked around curiously. Mountains rose up around them as they made their way past the cave entrance. There was green grass under his feet and trees could be seen on the slopes around them. It didn’t look much different from Lower La Noscea if you flattened some of the high peaks around him.

“Welcome to the Free Marches,” Garrett said gesturing as he turned. “I have no idea what happened back there but your magic is so… odd. You can’t be from around here.”

“We should probably camp,” Anders said looking at the sky. “Traveling through the Dalish encampment in the dead of night isn’t a terrific idea.”

“You’re probably right,” he replied frowning. “I think the Keeper might still be mad at me for…”

“Some of us are still annoyed with you over that,” Anders interrupted coolly.

Garrett smiled sheepishly. “Let’s get away from this cave at least.”

They started off and Varric fell into step beside him. Since the mages didn’t seem inclined to answer questions at the moment Vincent touched the dwarf’s shoulder lightly. “What are Dalish?”

“Elves,” Varric answered softly. “They’re not usually friendly but Hawke is different. He’s done them quite a few favors.”

“Why wouldn’t he be welcome?” Vincent asked in confusion.

“A difference of opinion with Keeper Marethari,” he replied.

“That seems… excessive.” Vincent crossed his arms over his chest and stopped. “You would be thrown out of a place for simply disagreeing with the leaders?”

“Over blood magic?” Garrett said turning around. He took a few steps backwards and stopped. “Most definitely.”

Anders frowned deeply, his brows knitted. “It’s dangerous.”

“Demons are dangerous,” Garrett sighed. “It’s just…”

“Please don’t get him started,” Varric interrupted tersely. “Not after what happened down there.”

All three of them were suddenly very tense. Varric looked from one mage to the other. Garrett’s hands were clenched and his shoulders stiff, a look of deep concern replacing the annoyance that had been there moments ago. His gaze shifted to the blonde man beside him. Anders’ eyes were closed, his arms still crossed over his chest. As curious as Vincent was he kept silent. From their reactions whatever had happened was still fresh and still painful.

“I’m fine,” Anders said uncertainly after a brief pause. “We need to tell him about it anyway. And Knight-Commander Meredith.”

“Just how are we going to explain the ears and the tail?” Garrett said.

“He’s from across the Amaranthine Ocean,” Varric said. “I’ll think of some reason for Junior to be missing by the time we get to Kirkwall.”

“Wonderful,” Garrett muttered morosely. “Another reason for Meredith to breathe fire at me. Maybe she won’t miss one Templar.”

Anders snorted. “Oh she’ll miss him all right. Come on Vincent. We can gather some firewood while I inform you about magic in Thedas.”

He turned and started off in a different direction. Vincent noted Varric’s dubious expression and Garrett’s resigned one before following him. He caught up to Anders and fell into step beside him. Before he could say anything Anders stopped and turned to face him. His expression was grim.

“I don’t know how magic is viewed where you’re from.” Anders gestured at Eos and continued. “People don’t generally walk around with a wisp summoned here. You definitely don’t advertise the fact you’re a mage to perfect strangers. You’re lucky you didn’t end up in Kirkwall. Meredith would have had you in the Gallows or simply executed the instant you showed up.”

“Imprisoned?” Vincent said in shock. “Executed? What for?”

“In Thedas you’re imprisoned for being a mage,” he replied seriously. “Meredith is the sort to stab first and ask questions later.” His brows drew down and he pursed his lips. “Her Templars are worse. She lets them do whatever they want.”

Several things flashed through his mind and Anders’ grim expression only lent credence to them. Vincent shook his head. “And what is blood magic?” he asked.

“Some mages can use blood to fuel their spells rather than mana,” Anders said as he started off. “It’s dangerous and stupid. You have to accept a deal from a demon to do it.”

“Demon?” Vincent said as he followed, bending to pick up good sized sticks every so often.

“They live in the Fade,” he replied. “Spirits and demons. Spirits are happy enough where they’re at but demons want to live in our world. They can possess mages, corpses and some have the energy to manifest without possession.” Anders snorted and shook his head. “Even non mages aren’t immune to demon influence. It’s just easiest for them to get at us.”

“Why would anyone study magic?” Vincent asked in shock. “Are there…”

“Study?” Anders interrupted in confusion. “The only people who study magic are mages. Even the Templars only know enough to keep us confined and in line.”

“How does one become a mage then?”

Anders stopped walking and his head snapped around, his eyebrows climbing to his hairline. “You don’t… become… a mage,” he said slowly. “You’re born one, or you’re not. It’s like…” He reached out and Vincent felt the slightest touch to one ear. His ears twitched and Anders pulled his hand away quickly. “Your eyes or your ears. A part of you.”

“Nearly anyone can study to become a mage in Eorzea,” said Vincent backing away a little. “You need the aptitude for it, the ability to manipulate aether, but no one is born a mage. You have to learn.”

“What a glorious world you must live in,” Anders said softly.

Vincent thought of Estinien, of Ysayle and Haurchefant. The constant primal threat and the Garlean’s renewed interest in Eorzea flashed through his thoughts as well. He shook his head. “No. Just different,” he said sadly.

“I’m sure you have problems,” said Anders after a moment. “But to me, to be able to walk down the street without the fear of being locked away… It sounds like paradise.”

“Tell me more,” said Vincent after another pause. “If I’m going to be here I need to know who to avoid.”

*

“Welcome to the Twelveswood,” Willow said as she emerged from the shadows of the cave.

Carver glanced around, curious but not, until his eyes lighted on one of the great trees. His mouth dropped open and his eyes followed the trunk up to the canopy far overhead. Willow smiled at the child like wonder in his expression. Oak and Lulu were engrossed in conversation, likely over this strange black haired blue eyed hyur that had replaced Vincent. She took a moment to examine his armor in the bright light while he stared at the woods.

The chest piece looked more silver than steel. On the breastplate a sword was carved, surrounded by stylized flames. His lower half was covered by an impractical skirt, red with some yellow. The carvings looked like an insignia but not one she was familiar with. Carver took a step closer to the nearest of the great trees and looked down at her after another moment spent gawking.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he said grinning. “It’s huge.”

“Put your eyes back in your head,” Oak said tersely. “This isn’t a sight-seeing jaunt. The wildlife around here isn’t nice.”

A scowl settled immediately on his handsome features as he looked to Oak. Carver said nothing however and merely crossed his arms over his chest. Oak shook his head and started off to where they’d left the chocobos. Willow wondered if Vincent’s bird would let Carver ride him and walked quickly to catch up with her disappearing companions.

“Maker’s Breath,” Carver exclaimed when they came into view around a corner.

He took a step back, one hand reaching up for his sword. Willow put a hand on his upper arm and said, “These chocobos won’t hurt you.”

“Choco… they’re giant birds!!!” he spluttered taking another step back. His arm fell to his side after a moment and Willow breathed a small sigh of relief.

“Who hasn’t seen a chocobo?” Oak asked incredulously.

“A person not from this world,” Lulu said impatiently. “It’s perfectly plausible.”

She took a deep breath to expound on her theories but Oak held up a hand. “Please spare me,” he said. Lulu huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “We didn’t finish the job. What are we going to tell the client?”

“We found out enough,” Willow said stepping forward. She patted her chocobo’s deep blue feathers and led him forward. “You two go tell the client what we found and I’ll take Carver to a less dangerous part of the wood.”

“What about Vincent?” Oak asked.

“There’s no reason to believe they won’t simply switch places again,” Lulu said indifferently. “Keeping him out of Gridania however is a grand idea.”

“If we run into trouble we’ll head for Quarrymill,” Willow said nodding.

Oak aimed a resigned look at Carver. Despite the two not getting off on the right foot, Carver smirked slightly and shrugged. Shaking his head Oak mounted his chocobo and started slowly after Lulu who was already headed down the deer trail. Willow turned her attention back to Carver who was eying her bird suspiciously.

“He won’t peck you,” she said gently.

“I’ve never seen a bird this big,” Carver said reaching out. “We ride horses.”

“Have you ever ridden a horse?” Willow asked leading Vincent’s chocobo over.

“I know how,” said Carver carefully petting the feathers on her chocobo’s neck.

“That one is Krull,” said Willow gesturing. “This one is Valentine. He’s Vincent’s chocobo.”

Valentine squawked loudly and flapped his wings. Carver took a wary step back. She ran a hand along the crimson feathers of his neck and he settled.

“I don’t think it likes me,” said Carver.

“You’re not Vincent. They’re fairly intelligent creatures. He’ll get used to you.”

Willow started down the trail leading Valentine and looked over her shoulder, gesturing Carver to follow. She was pleased to see him take Krull’s reins and start after her. Smiling before she turned back to the trail Willow wished the armor he wore didn’t cover quite so much of him.


	3. Chapter 3

Vincent’s first glimpse of Kirkwall was a smoky smudge in the distance. Garrett explained it was from foundries in part of the city called Lowtown. The closer they got to the city the smudge cleared up into tall buildings of stone soaring over a stone wall. The soldiers standing guard at the gates stopped them, both staring at him before Garrett and Varric spun a tale for them. There was nothing about him that screamed mage in this world now that he’d dismissed Eos. Summoning her again wouldn’t be a problem.

He followed quietly behind looking around the city that would be his home for the foreseeable future. The buildings were crammed together, most of the time no space between one home and the next. Though he didn’t recognize the fashion of those he walked past but the materials the clothes were made from were looked expensive. The looks he received were filled with curiosity but none actually spoke to him. Few hailed Garrett but he was friendly with those that did.

“Champion,” one of the guards called out. The man had brown hair and looked to be in need of a razor. His smile was friendly however.

“Hawke,” said a white haired elezen man walking next to him.

“Donnic, Fenris,” Garrett called out veering towards them.

“Not a youth?” Vincent said quietly looking up at Anders. That mistake had already been made at the Dalish camp and the guard had been extremely upset with him.

“No,” Anders said just as softly with a rueful smirk. “That elf hates mages. Watch yourself around him.”

“He seems on good terms with Garrett,” said Vincent after a moment.

“Hawke is special,” he replied frowning. “Stay with Hawke and you’ll be fine. I have… some things to do.” Anders raised his voice and turned to where Garrett stood. “I’m going home. I’ll see you later.”

“At the Hanged Man,” Hawke said to his retreating figure. “Tonight. I’ll hunt you down if you don’t show Anders.”

Anders waved over his shoulder and continued on. Vincent looked from one mage to the other, met Fenris’ eyes for a moment and jogged after Anders. Garrett was friendly and had been kind but he sensed something off about the tall blonde that the healer inside him couldn’t ignore. He fell into step with him and Anders smiled.

“Come with me and I just might put you to work,” he said.

“I’m happy enough to help people,” said Vincent also smiling. “I think I might be a better distraction however. He wiggled his ears and Anders grinned.

*

“Is there any color to his eyes at all?” Fenris muttered.

“Yes,” Garrett said with a smug tone Fenris had heard many times. “They’re almost a pearl color.”

“Polished silver,” Varric said a little too innocently.

“Ooh that’s good,” said Garrett nodding.

Fenris tore his gaze away from the abomination and the stranger that had left with him. The innocent looks they wore only made him scowl. Even Donnic looked amused.

“Serah Hawke,” Donnic said. “Did he…”

“Yes Donnic,” Garrett said when he trailed off. “You did see cat ears and, yes, that was a tail.”

“Where’s Carver?” Fenris said cutting off the comment about him watching that tail that was surely coming.

The grin faded to a grimace and Garrett shook his head. “I have no idea. We were on the way back and got detoured into one of those many caves on Sundermount. Carver was there one moment and Vincent was there after we were all blinded.”

“What happened out there Hawke,” Fenris asked his gaze turning back to where Anders and the stranger had disappeared.

“Later,” Garrett said tersely. “I’m going home for a bath then I’m going to spend my afternoon at the Rose. Much later I will drink bad alcohol with my friends at the Hanged Man and hopefully forget everything that happened in that Maker forsaken pit. Donnic, would you let Aveline know about the welcome home party I’m throwing myself?”

“I will Champion,” said Donnic with a chuckle. “Until next time my friends.”

Donnic hurried off to the Keep and Fenris turned back to Garrett and Varric, both of whom were smirking at him.

“Care to come with Fenris?” Garrett asked wiggling his eyebrows. “My treat. You can watch the normal sort of tail prance about. Perhaps sheath your sword a few times.”

“You’ve spent far too much time with the pirate,” said Fenris turning away. “I’ll see you both at the Hanged man.”

“At the Hanged Man then,” Garrett said cheerfully.

Not for the first time Fenris wondered how the man could keep a smile after so many questionable things happening. Trapped in the Deep Roads he’d smiled and joked the entire time. When the Qunari tried taking over he spent the night trading inappropriate insults with Varric about his absent girlfriend who had started the whole mess. Only his mother’s death had affected him it seemed. Even Carver’s disappearance merely warranted a sullen scowl, a brief one at that. Fenris shook his head and started up the stairs that would take him home, thinking about black hair strange colored eyes and the fur covered ears on top of the stranger’s head.

*

The difference between Hightown and Lowtown was distinct and disheartening. Homes were packed even closer together, the people looked at him with suspicion rather than curiosity and everything was layered in fine ash from the foundries. The architecture might have been vastly different but it reminded Vincent of Ishgard and the vast differences between highborn and lowborn. Lowtown, as discouraging as it was, was an immense improvement over Darktown however.

The people were haggard and filthy. Vincent recognized the desperate and resigned looks some of them aimed at him. The refugees in Ul’dah looked much the same only with a much cleaner environment. Trash stood in piles, broken crates were scattered around everywhere and the smell of waste reached his nose more than once.

“Seven hells,” Vincent swore softly. His ears drooped and he buried his nose in the crook of one elbow. “No one should be living here.”

“There aren’t half as many as there were a few years ago,” Anders said bitterly. “They fled the Blight in the south along with the rest of Ferelden. Kirkwall was overrun and many were sent away. It’s debatable whether or not the ones that made it here were lucky.”

“What’s the blight?” he asked. “Some sort of sickness?”

“You’re not far wrong,” Anders replied. “Darkspawn are blighted creatures. They dig underground looking for a sleeping old god, listening to its call to free it. When they find one it wakes and becomes an archdemon. A blighted dragon. A Blight happens when one of these things goes on a rampage, killing and poisoning everything it touches.”

“Why did these people not stand and fight?” said Vincent thinking once more of Ishgard. As disgusting as those creatures had been they had posed little threat to Garrett, Anders and Varric.

“These people are farmers, herders,” he said gesturing as he stopped. “Merchants that might have held a sword only to sell it. You can’t expect them to use pitchforks on Ogre’s and Shrieks. Darkspawn are endless and getting the blight sickness they carry is a death sentence.” Anders sighed heavily and turned towards a set of stairs. “Even for the Grey Wardens.”

“Grey wardens?”

“They can sense Darkspawn. Only a Warden can kill the archdemon and end a blight. But we pay a price for those abilities. We’re immune to the sickness but the blight will kill us eventually. Most of us I should say.”

“You don’t sound certain.”

“I used to be certain,” Anders said frowning as he dug into a pocket. “That was before Larius and…” Anders shook his head and dug a set of keys out. He unlocked one of the two doors in front of them and pushed it open. “Welcome to my clinic. It’s not much but it’s safe. As safe as possible anyway.”

“Are you a Grey Warden?” Vincent asked as he took in the large room.

There were several cots strewn about with little order to them. A desk sat to his right, worn cabinets lined the walls and there was a curtained off area in the back. The piles of garbage and filth present everywhere else down here were absent in Anders’ clinic. He walked over to the first cabinet and pulled open the doors, wincing at the squeaking hinges.

“Yes,” Anders said from right behind him. “Are you going to look in every one?”

Vincent looked over his shoulder and found a smirk forming. “Maybe?”

“Are your people known for their curiosity?”

“No,” he replied slowly. “Why?”

“Because cats are inquisitive creatures here.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Have a seat Anders. I’ll tell you about the Miqo’te.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you not familiar with Dragon Age, the Rose is a brothel.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I've been working a lot and this conversation gave me all kinds of trouble.

Night fell quickly in the forest. It was nice to know some things were the same everywhere. The big red bird was not fond of him at all but the big blue bird had let Carver on his back. Willow had watched him closely from the back of the red one as he got used to being on a two legged creature rather than a four legged one. The gait was awkward, the reins didn’t feel the same on this long necked bird and Carver couldn’t help but wonder how Willow saw where she was going on the slightly bigger red one. He could just see over the blue one’s feathery head.

Willow had veered off of a well-traveled road and now there was nothing but trees, bushes and grass around them. She slowed her companion’s bird to a stop and Carver ended up a little further past her before he could convince her bird to stop. He quickly dismounted and stood a moment, hoping the world would stop bouncing.

“I don’t think I like riding birds,” Carver said sullenly.

Giggling Willow held her hand out for the reins. “You did fine for your first time. Would you gather some wood while I take care of these two?”

Carver nodded gladly handing her the strip of leather. This area looked like a campsite though not a well-used one. He scoured the ground around the fire pit in circles, picking up dead branches. At some point Willow joined him and soon they had a decent sized stack. Like he had the night before Carver spent a moment looking up at the unfamiliar stars he could see through the branches of the trees. His carefully hoarded stash of lyrium had dwindled to a quarter of a vial however and he turned back to the fire Willow had started.

Their unexpected trip to the Deep Roads had forced him to ration what he’d been given for the journey in the first place. It had been days since he’d completely satisfied that hunger. Now that was in a completely foreign place, the chances of finding more lyrium seemed extremely slim. He watched the slight woman feeding her fledgling blaze and wondered what was going to happen to him.

There was only one man he’d met briefly that didn’t have access to a steady supply of lyrium and Carver hadn’t been impressed. He remembered Samson well even though it had been years since he’d seen the former Templar. Reduced to begging or selling children to questionable people for a fix, the man was unkempt and smacked of desperation. Whatever lay in his immediate future seemed bleaker. No one talked about what happened when you didn’t get lyrium.

“Is everything all right?”

Willow was looking up at him, concern plainly written over her exotic features. The fire shined in her large green eyes, the irises nearly the same color as her hair. She’d been kind and patient, more so than anyone he knew back home would have been. Carver sighed and sunk down next to her. He shook his head slowly. Even sitting Willow only came up to his shoulder. Standing she was looking at his belly. If he collapsed suddenly in a dangerous situation there was no way she’d be able to drag him to safety. There were no longer any doubts about informing her about this uncomfortable subject.

“Not really,” Carver said frowning. He pulled the vial out of his pocket. “I’m a Templar.”

“What does that mean?” she asked scooting a little closer.

“Mages are dangerous in my world,” said Carver. “We’re trained to deal with mages and demons but this…” Carver held it up for a moment. “This is what fuels our abilities.”

“What do you mean by dangerous?” she said only glancing at the vial. “A mage is as dangerous as any other battle profession.”

“Not in Thedas. It’s… difficult to explain.”

“Try. How are mages so bad they need an entire order to deal with them?”

Carver sighed heavily at her suddenly unhappy expression. “My father was a mage. My brother is a mage. My sister… was a mage. I didn’t join the Order for glory or prestige. They’re good mages. Father… he was good man. But not all mages are. They consort with demons. Some just aren’t strong enough to resist. I wanted to be a Templar they could trust.”

“I still don’t understand the purpose of your order. It’s obvious you care about your family though.” Willow took the vial from his hand and held it up, still frowning. “What is this?”

“Lyrium. It gives a Templar the power to disrupt mage’s abilities.” Willow took in a breath but Carver shook his head and continued. “It doesn’t matter exactly what abilities I’m talking about. Once you _start_ taking it you have to _keep_ taking it. And this is the last I’ve got.”

“Do you know what happens if you stop?” she asked softly after a moment.

“Not exactly.” Carver took the vial from her and pulled the stopper. He downed it in a few swallows and drank from his canteen right after. “Keep taking it and you end up addled. Templars have smuggled the stuff into the circle because they can’t do with what the Chantry rations you. I’ve only met one person without a steady supply and he did some rotten things to get it.”

“If this stuff is so bad,” Willow said softly. “Why would anyone take it?”

“Everyone’s reason for joining is different,” Carver replied with a shrug. “Garrett didn’t understand either. Even after…” He pursed his lips for a moment and shook his head. “I doubt I’ll find any lyrium here.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Willow said shaking her head. “It looks a little like an ether potion. Maybe we could substitute that?”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“It replenishes a mage’s energy to cast spells without waiting for it to regenerate naturally.”

“That… might work.” Carver tugged off his gauntlets and dropped them to the ground next to him. “Mages use lyrium potions to replenish their mana.”

“Maybe we should keep going to Gridania.”

Carver sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know where I’m at. Whatever you think is best. I’d rather not get the only person who’s been nice to me in a long while killed because I’m seeing things or I fall unconscious or I can’t tell friend from foe.”

“It won’t take more than a day or two to get there. I know a conjuror that might be able to help.”

He nodded and stared into the fire.

*

Willow watched him from across the dying fire. It had taken a while to convince him the chocobos would alert them to trouble and coax him to sleep. If the substance he was addicted to was truly as bad as he claimed he would need all his strength in the days to come. His sleep had not been restful however.

She crawled out from her bedroll and shuffled around to sit by his head. After tossing another good sized stick onto the fire Willow brushed black hair off of his sweaty forehead. Murmuring in a soothing tone she rubbed a shoulder until the tension had released in his body. He muttered something unintelligible and she ran her fingers through his hair. For a while Willow sat there staring into the fire, her hand on his shoulder, wondering what had him thrashing and muttering loud enough to wake her.

There was little she knew about him but suspected his night terrors were about his family. She’d heard the name Garrett as well as Father. Whatever had him troubled she hoped Gridania wouldn’t make it worse. Willow didn’t understand what made the mages so terrible where he came from but here there was no order specifically to watch them. Adventurers were now a common sight in the city and there were as many mages as there were non-mages.

He would have to be warned. While he seemed short tempered Carver hadn’t been aggressive. Willow wasn’t a mage however and he hadn’t been around Lulu long enough to discover that she was. She hoped he would be reasonable at the very least. Axel was good at his job and she suspected Carver might need some of his magic.

Slowly her eyes closed and her head drooped to her chest. With a hand still resting on his shoulder she fell into a light doze wondering why anyone would take something so dangerous into their bodies.


	5. Chapter 5

Hawke was still flushed when Fenris ran into them on the way to the Hanged Man. Anders walked on one side of Hawke and Vincent on the other. Fenris stood and waited for them, studying the stranger he’d brought back instead of Carver.

Only Vincent’s ears gave away his origins from the front. His eyes glowed a little like an elf’s would in the dim light but looked perfectly normal other than the almost colorless irises. Earrings hung from his ears and a pair of rings adorned his fingers. Fenris also noticed bracelets as well as a choker and wondered if this man was wealthy. The fancy looking leather pants and odd shirt also pointed to an excess of coin. His jet black hair was feathered around his face and just touched the top of his shoulders. Vincent’s pale skin stood out in the gloom of dusk, more so than Anders’ did.

“Hawke,” Fenris said as they got closer.

“Fenris,” Hawke replied cheerfully. “You should have come with. Blossom was asking after you.”

He tore his gaze away from Vincent and his strange eyes to smirk at Hawke, completely ignoring Anders. “Was she?”

“She was,” Hawke said smugly. “You must have made quite an impression.”

“Perhaps next time,” Fenris said falling into step beside Vincent.

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Vincent. And you should know that I’m a mage.”

“What?” Fenris said stopping in shock.

“Oh Maker,” Hawke groaned. “Anders.”

“I answered his questions,” Anders said irritably. “Truthfully.”

“No mage in Thedas who wasn’t from Tevinter would admit that,” Fenris said suspiciously.

“He’s not from Tevinter,” Anders scoffed. “He’s not even from Thedas. Even you should have been able to figure that out.”

A snarl escaped Fenris but Hawke cut off anything he might have said. “Let’s not discuss this on the street. Templars have ears everywhere and quite a few rats besides. I’d rather our new friend didn’t get a taste of what Meredith considers hospitality.”

He kept the retort to himself but Fenris scowled at Anders. His gaze turned to Vincent after a moment and didn’t find what he expected to. There was curiosity in Vincent’s expression but no hate or fear. Fenris couldn’t see any disgust or even pity. He aimed another suspicious glare at Anders.

“I’m going ho…” Anders began after a scowl.

“No,” Hawke interrupted catching his arm before he could turn. “You aren’t.” He pulled Anders close and started marching towards the Hanged Man. “You are going to be as drunk as I can possibly get you in a few hours.”

“Hawke he won’t…” Anders protested.

“Your friend can bugger off for a few days,” Hawke said in a strained voice. “He owes you that much.”

Fenris’ eyes widened a little in surprise. Only Carver seemed to be able to bring out Hawke’s temper. There was only one occasion in all the years he’d know the two mages in front of him that they’d gotten into a screaming match. Hawke’s quiet anger was obvious but Fenris wasn’t sure if it was directed at Anders or the demon he harbored. An odd look flashed across Anders’ face and surprisingly he nodded.

“What in…” Fenris muttered.

“Whatever happened it was before I got here,” Vincent said softly from right next to him. “All three of them have been very tense off and on the whole way back. I’m sure it has something to do with Anders though.”

“The abomination is always tense,” Fenris said after a moment. “Hawke and Varric rarely take anything seriously.”

“Abomination?” he said curiously.

“Anders,” Fenris said curtly. “He’s possessed.”

“I’ve spoken with both of them about the differences in our magic,” Vincent said after a moment. “There’s a lot I don’t understand and a few things about this world I find disturbing. I know a troubled man when I see one however.”

Frowning Fenris looked down at his passive expression and wondered just who he was referring to. The corners of Vincent’s mouth turned up the slightest bit and he walked a little quicker to catch up to Hawke and Anders. Fenris watched his tail lost in thought.

“Come on Fenris,” Hawke hollered from ahead. “You can tail watch later. There’s drinking to get done!”

Vincent glanced over his shoulder and down for a moment. His puzzled gaze landed on Fenris for a heartbeat then turned back to the men in front. Fenris was glad for the fading light that hid the color creeping into his cheeks.

*

Carver looked around the bustling city that didn’t look much like a city. The wooden buildings and dirt paths reminded him Lothering and he felt homesick for the first time in years. Lothering was far enough off the main road in southern Ferelden the amount of people he could see at this very moment would have completely inundated the tiny village. They hurried around him and Willow going on about their business but he was having trouble not staring. There were more of the big people like Oak, more of the really short ones like Lulu and even a few like Willow. There were also people with cat ears and tails, really tall elves and some that even looked human.

Willow had warned him there would be many people and that there would be mages among them. Every fourth person he saw seemed to have a staff strapped to their back. Having grown up around three mages this didn’t actually bother him. Since she’d bothered to warn him at all he wondered just what mages were like in this strange world. It was that unknown factor that had him clenching his hands nervously.

All of his nervousness and tension fled when he saw the giant blue crystal however. A wooden platform had been built around it and gold bands floating in midair circled it. Carver stood on the path staring, gaze rising up the oddly shaped but enormous rock. The gentle blue glow surrounding it pulled a memory from the back of his mind. Himself, only seven or eight, was sitting in the kitchen with Garrett, Bethany and Mother watching. His father kneeling holding his lower leg still in one hand his other hand hovering over his knee, hand glowing blue.

It had been one of the few times their father had used his magic in the house. Father, Garrett and Bethany had gone out into the woods for at least a couple of hours every day sometimes longer. Carver had resented that even then. Their recent discoveries down in the Grey Warden prison were disturbing however and he pushed the memory away.

“The Inn is this way,” Willow said after a moment of letting him gawk. “You should probably take the armor off before we go to the Conjuror’s Guild.”

“Why?” he said looking around at the varied clothing and armor around him. “It’s not like I’ll stand out.”

“This is obviously a sigil,” she said tapping his breastplate. “You will likely need to explain it over and over again because no one will know what it is.” Willow pulled him down a little and spoke softly in his ear. “You’re going to stand out enough.”

“I’m not leaving my sword,” Carver said stubbornly.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” said Willow smiling. “Axel will need to know a few things but if we can avoid drawing too much attention…”

Carver nodded and gestured for her to go on. Drawing too much attention was something he knew altogether too much about. He took one last look at the crystal and followed behind her. While she spoke with the innkeeper he watched her and wondered why she was going out of her way to help him. The other two certainly hadn’t cared one way or the other. Most of the people his brother had surrounded himself with hadn’t cared a whit about Carver either.

“Why are you doing this?” Carver asked as he followed her through the hallway to their room.

“Because I’d love to see what’s under that armor,” she replied smiling coyly up at him. “And that hideous skirt.”

“What?” said Carver stopping in shocked confusion.

Willow looked over her shoulder and said, “You’re a good looking young man and to be perfectly honest that was why to begin with. Now that I know a bit more about you… well I wasn’t born in Eorzea either. I’m not sure how you got here or why Vincent isn’t anymore but you’re obviously far from home.”

“Thank you,” he said earnestly.

“Come on,” Willow said smiling. “Let’s hope an Ether potion solves your problem.”

Carver had his doubts but hoped something in this strange place would suffice. He was already getting anxious because he knew he didn’t have any lyrium and there would be none coming. The room was small with only one bed and Willow waited for him outside of it. Taking his armor off took moments despite the many distractions. The amulet that had begun this fell to the floor when he removed the skirts of his uniform.

He carefully folded the material and set it on a dresser near his neatly stacked armor. Carver bent to pick it up wearing nothing but his underpadding. Willow knocked on the door and he was further distracted by the openly appreciative look on her face. The amulet went around his neck and he followed her out of the Inn trying not to stumble over his words like he always did with Merrill. He didn’t notice the tiny crack at the very bottom of the cloudy blue gemstone that hadn’t been there before.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This teeny chapter is mostly transition. That said, it kept giving me fits. I'm sorry if it seems abrupt in spots or doesn't flow well in others. I'd love suggestions if you have any. Either way I hope you enjoy. =)

The Hanged Man was a far cry from the Drowning Wench. It wasn’t even in the same league as the Forgotten Knight. Vincent had enjoyed many pints in Ishgard’s rough establishment and many more in Limsa Lominsa but it would be difficult to enjoy anything here. The common room almost rivaled Darktown in cleanliness. Disturbing smells assaulted him from every direction, the floors were stained and he really didn’t want to know what had caused those stains.

Garrett had already moved off to the bar and Anders started towards the back. Vincent stood and looked around, noting that the patrons didn’t stare like quite a few others had done. The serving women were sullen as they made their rounds. The barkeep seemed uninterested in anything. Fenris stepped in behind him and he gestured at the room.

“Are all taverns here like this?” Vincent asked in disgust.

“No,” Fenris snorted in amusement. “The Hanged Man is… unique. Follow Anders.”

He started off towards the back where Anders was now climbing a set of stairs. Vincent took care to avoid people and kept his tail close. The hallway upstairs wasn’t much better than the common room downstairs. The room Anders waved him into was much cleaner. Unlike downstairs the furniture wasn’t crates and planks of wood. The paintings on the wall were unlike anything he’d seen before. There were blocky statuettes sitting atop a shelf full of books. The table that took up a lot of the first room was stone. Geometric designs covered it from one end to the other, the pattern mirrored on the chairs around it.

“Welcome to Varric’s room,” Anders said as he pulled out one of the chairs. “The best one in the Hanged Man.”

“It’s certainly my favorite,” Varric said with a smirk.

“You’re biased,” Garrett said from the doorway behind him. “Have a seat Vince.”

Varric chuckled and gestured at the table. “I don’t suppose they have card games where you’re from?”

“Of course,” Vincent said as he pulled out the closest chair. “I doubt they’re the same ones though.”

“Diamondback,” Garrett said as he set a mug in front of him. “That’s easy to pick up.”

Vincent’s ears drooped when he realized one of the foul odors downstairs was coming from the mug in front of him. The conversation around him faded to a background drone as he pulled it cautiously closer. The amber liquid looked like any other he’d drank. He couldn’t get over the smell however. A glance around the table revealed partially drunk mugs in front of the others. If they were drinking the stuff it couldn’t be poison. Since he was depending on these people offending them wouldn’t be wise. Vincent gripped the handle of the mug and reluctantly lifted it.

“Allow me to spare you that horror,” Fenris said tentatively touching his shoulder. “It tastes worse than it smells.” He pushed another mug towards him from the chair beside him. “This is much more palatable.”

Leaning over slightly he sniffed and held in a sigh of relief at the familiar smell of wine. Vincent smiled at Fenris and set the first mug back on the table. Garrett smirked as he reached for the ale. He took a sip ignoring Garrett for the moment and nodded gratefully at Fenris. Fenris nodded back with the smallest hint of a smile he’d ever seen. Considering Garrett’s earlier odd remarks and the large grin he wore now Vincent was curious about the elezen. Anders had said very little about Fenris or his past before Kirkwall. In view of the obvious dislike they held for one another it wasn’t surprising Anders knew little however.

He took another sip and set the mug in front of him. Curiosity could wait until morning along with the stress of this place and wondering how he’d gotten here. For now he would drink and learn this card game they seemed to want to teach him. Vincent turned his attention to Garrett, absently moving the silver bracelet to scratch his wrist underneath. He didn’t notice the corner of the gem where the crack began. It had turned milky.

*

Willow’s mage friend was one of the tall elves that seemed to be one of the more plentiful races here. Carver had never seen an elf with bluish skin before. That he could dismiss at this point. He’d already met a man with green skin after all. It was his eyes that Carver kept staring at. Jagged lines tattooed from his hairline to almost the corners of his mouth drew attention to his different colored eyes. The iris of one was a perfectly normal violet but the other was red. It was a lighter red than his deep red hair, but not quite pink.

Axel had listened to them and accepted the wild story with raised eyebrows. Carver explained about the lyrium and now his long arms were crossed in front of his chest. His brow was furrowed in thought and Carver couldn’t seem to look away from his eyes. After a short time Axel shook his head.

“This stuff seems more like poison to me,” Axel said softly. “An ether potion won’t cause deformities and it’s certainly not addicting. Why would you ever drink something so dangerous?”

“It’s… complicated,” Carver said shaking his head. “So what happens now?”

“That I don’t know either,” said Axel frowning. “How long have you been without?”

“Since yesterday evening,” he replied. “But I haven’t had a full dose for weeks.”

“That might be a blessing.” Axel unfurled his long arms and placed the inside of his wrist on Carver’s forehead. “I believe you have a very low grade fever. I think I’d stay in the city were I you.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Willow asked disappointedly.

“Symptom management,” he said gesturing at Carver. “Without knowing exactly what it is I could do more harm than good. You’re at the Roost?”

“Yes,” said Willow.

“My advice for the moment, have a meal and get settled. I’ll prepare some things and bring them by in the morning.”

“Thank you Axel,” Willow said smiling up at him.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and nodded slightly. Carver watched him walk away, feeling a little numb but fascinated at the same time. “He could give Kirkwall’s nobility lessons on elegance,” he said leaning against a nearby tree.

“All of the elezen are like that. Even the awful ones,” Willow said softly. She stood in front of him looking up, concern clear in her expression. “You don’t look well Carver.”

“I feel fine,” he said tiredly. “Just… I don’t know. I felt better before but… I’m just tired.”

“Let’s go back,” Willow said taking his hand. “Maybe it’s shock setting in or stress.”

Carver nodded and allowed her to keep a hold of his hand. Since he picked up the necklace it had been one surprise after another. Waking up to find his head pillowed on Willow’s thigh had been quite a shock as well. If green skinned men and extremely kind women with horns and tails didn’t drive him crazy nothing in this city would. His half remembered nightmares could have been fueled by his most recent trip to the Deep Roads but he thought it more likely that his lack of lyrium was already starting to affect him.

There’d been a constant nagging for more in his mind for quite some time now. That nagging was louder but not any worse to deal with. He hadn’t really expected to get physically ill but there was no denying the concern from Willow when she’d been flirting not an hour ago. All he could do was trust that she’d take care of him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. My muse has been all over the place and this was incredibly difficult. I'm still not real sure it's right but you can only go over it so many times.

“Hello?” Vincent called out as he cautiously opened the door.

Fenris’ home looked no different than the others around it from the outside other than a slightly neglected look. Garrett Hawke was still sleeping off everything alcoholic he’d consumed the night before but Anders was mostly sober. Despite his protests Anders had been kind enough to show him where Fenris lived but understandably wouldn’t go near. Just the few interactions he’d seen between them and what Anders had told him Vincent suspected Hawke was the only reason they weren’t at each other’s throats.

The disarray he found in the foyer was disheartening. Floor tiles were gone and mushrooms were growing from the wood. A couple of desiccated corpses sat against the wall, looking forgotten of all things amongst the litter that had decorated what must have been a fine home at one point. Doors led off to the left and right but he’d been instructed to go straight back. The state of the room made the short hairs on the back of his neck stand on end however and he summoned Eos. She appeared in a flash of light and followed at his shoulder as he slowly walked further into the place.

“Fenris?” Vincent called out.

He looked around cautiously as he went through the doorway in front of him. The room was bigger but it was just as much of a mess as the foyer had been. Another body sat in a corner, guarding a double staircase. The railing was gone in spots and the risers were cluttered with detritus. Vincent didn’t understand how anyone could live in this ruin. At the top of the stairs he found the occupant however, shirtless with his great sword at the ready.

His fingers itched to hold his tome and several spells came to mind but Vincent remained still and calm. “This is your home?”

“This is where I sleep,” Fenris said slowly straightening. The tip of his sword lowered until it hit the floor. “I don’t have a home.”

“Limsa would be my home if I had one,” Vincent said calmly. “Most recently my home has been Fortemps Manor in Ishgard. It’s the lot of an adventurer.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked after a moment.

“I wanted to talk. I’ve spoken with Hawke and Anders extensively on the way to Kirkwall. I want to know the other side.”

“Other side?”

“Why do people fear mages? Why would you lock them all away?”

Fenris straightened a little more and changed the grip he had on the hilt of his sword. He gestured with his other hand and said tightly, “What is that?”

“She is a fairy,” Vincent replied. “She helps me heal people. I can hurt you but she cannot.” Fenris tensed and he shook his head. “I’m not going to.”

“Threatening generally isn’t a fantastic conversation starter.” Frowning Fenris shouldered his sword and turned back to the rooms on the landing. “Come on.”

Vincent snorted as he started up the stairs. “I don’t need magic to be dangerous. I’ve trained with many different masters.”

“If you are a mage why would you train to be anything else?” Fenris said incredulously.

“Because I _chose_ to be a Scholar,” Vincent said evenly. “I could have become a monk or a dragoon. I can wield your sword but you are likely better.”

Fenris stepped through into the middle room and leaned his blade against the wall then turned a confused gaze on him. “You chose magic? Why?”

“In Eorzea no one is born a mage.” Vincent stepped closer and stopped an arm’s length away. “You learn to wield magic like you would any blade or arrow.”

“Anyone can be a mage?”

His horrified expression made Vincent a little sad but before he could say anything else Eos flew over his shoulder and hovered between them. Fenris’ expression went from horror to wary in an instant. Vincent watched them closely. After a moment she turned to him and spoke. He frowned and looked at the tattoos that he hadn’t paid much attention to previously.

“She says you are poisoned,” Vincent said softly. “From these tattoos.”

“They are… lyrium,” he replied his suspicious gaze riveted to the fairy between them.

“What is lyrium?”

“An ore the dwarves mine. A raw form of magic. There are uses but… ingesting it can be very harmful.”

“And having it imbedded into your skin?”

“I believe I was the first to survive.” Fenris smiled ruefully at his horrified expression. “I did not choose this. My former master chose it. A Magister of Tevinter. The only country in Thedas ruled by mages.”

Vincent wanted to know so many things. He looked at the bluish white loops and swirls that covered Fenris’ torso. They were beautiful but he had no doubts that they were deadly. There was nothing to be done for Anders unless he wished to release the entity possessing him. Purging this poison from Fenris might prove to be just as fruitless but he had to gain his trust to even try.

“Tell me of Tevinter then,” Vincent said softly.

“Tevinter,” Fenris sighed. “Where to begin.”

He sunk down on a nearby bench. Vincent sat on one across from him and leaned forward interestedly. “Start from the beginning.”

“Tevinter covered most of Thedas at one time,” he began after some thought. “No one has truly conquered Tevinter but wars pushed the borders to where they are now. Magisters rule.”

“Magisters?”

“The ruling body of Tevinter. All mages.” Fenris paused and gestured to the front door. “They have… explained blood magic?”

“Yes,” Vincent replied frowning. “No one can use blood to fuel spells in Eorzea. It’s horrifying to think that can be done here.”

“On the surface it’s just as forbidden in Tevinter as it is everywhere else. But no Magister would turn away such an advantage. Posturing and backstabbing go hand in hand.”

“There is no circle in Tevinter?”

“There is but it’s not like the rest of Thedas. Templars have no actual power in Tevinter. The circle is academic rather than a place to house and watch.”

Vincent leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “From conversations with Hawke and Anders, it seems to me the other circles are not simply a place to house mages.” Fenris’ brows pulled down and he frowned deeply before taking a breath. He held up a hand to silence him. “Why would they take such pains to keep me away from the Templars here?”

“She is attempting to control…”

“Please,” Vincent interrupted. “I didn’t come here to fight. I must be able to protect myself from these Templars.”

Fenris’ eyes were narrowed and he was still frowning. He nodded sharply after a few moments. “If you wish to avoid the Templars avoid casting spells. There is no other way I know of to know someone is a mage.”

Vincent doubted it was that simple but nodded anyway. “Perhaps you can explain something else for me. What did Hawke mean by tail watching?”

Spots of color appeared high on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “No one in Thedas actually has a tail. It’s… a term for a person’s rear end.”

“Ah.” A smile slowly spread and Vincent leaned forward again. “So you were checking me out?”

“Well… yes and no. At first I was actually looking at your tail. But… your bottom is pleasing to look upon.”

Vincent chuckled and stood up. “Thank you Fenris. I appreciate your candor.”

He headed for the door lashing his tail back and forth, pleased when he heard Fenris laughing.


	8. Chapter 8

Vincent pulled the drawstrings tight and tied a quick knot. The sleeping attire Hawke had provided was much too large for him. He would have preferred sleeping in nothing but for propriety’s sake he endured. The waist sat low on his hips to allow his tail to remain unconfined. Sitting on the bed Vincent rolled up the legs until his feet were free of the fabric. The shirt he left on the bed. Normally it was way too early in the day for pajamas but Hawke’s housekeeper apparently knew much more than just cooking and cleaning. He grabbed his trousers and went in search of her.

It took a bit but he found her cleaning a guest room on the other side of the house. Vincent handed her his pants so that she could wash and study the tail hole. He hoped he would soon have something to sleep in besides oversized clothing he got tangled up in. With that done he went out to the garden to enjoy what was left of the afternoon.

The garden in Hawke’s estate was a piece of wilderness fenced in by stone walls. The trees were overgrown, bushes encroached on the stone walkways, flowers had been left to run riot. The walkways were currently still usable but in another year or so they might not be. Vincent wondered why it had been neglected as he climbed up a tree. Carefully he made his way across a branch and hopped to the high wall surrounding the garden. He lay on his back on top of the wide wall, tail falling down on the garden side and laced his fingers underneath his head. Vincent closed his eyes and simply enjoyed the warm sun.

“Dear Maker,” Hawke said sometime later. “How did you get up there?”

“From the tree,” Vincent said gesturing. He stretched and stood, looking around until he found his host on a balcony overlooking the garden.

“If I tried to jump from there I’d break something,” he said shaking his head. “Most likely my rear end when the branch snapped.”

“A benefit of being small,” replied Vincent grinning. He walked along the top of the wall and jumped to an ornamental statue with ivy creeping up the base then to the balcony where Hawke still stood. Vincent sat on the railing next to him.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Hawke said with a bemused expression. “Cats get to the oddest spots.”

“I know many who could make those little leaps,” said Vincent with a shrug. “Being Miqo’te has little to do with it.”

“I’m beginning to agree with Anders.” Hawke turned towards him and leaned a hip against the rail. “You must live in a marvelous world.”

Vincent snorted and shook his head. “I live in a world where faith and devotion can summon god like beings that drain the land of aether. An ancient civilization destroyed itself and left countless dangerous artifacts scattered throughout the realm for anyone foolish enough to activate them. Countless lives have been lost in a war that has raged for centuries. Eorzea isn’t the paradise you think it is.”

“I’m sorry,” Hawke said after a moment. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Hiding has been a major part of my life. A place where I don’t have to worry about being a mage…”

“No,” Vincent interrupted with a sigh. “I apologize. I am not the best person to ask about Eorzea right now. I have dealt with these problems and several recent events have… jaded me.”

Hawke gripped his shoulder a moment and turned back to the garden. Vincent slid off the rail and turned to stand next to him, looking out over the overgrown tangle of trees and bushes. “So you’re Eorzea’s version of Champion then? The guy everyone goes to when there’s a problem.”

“The Warrior of Light.”

“Fancy,” said Hawke with a smirk. “Have they put up a horribly inaccurate statue of you somewhere?”

“No thank the gods,” Vincent replied with a chuckle. “How does one get a statue in Kirkwall?”

Hawke snorted and his smirk turned to a rueful smile. “By helping my girlfriend recover an artifact she stole from the Qunari. She ran off with it and they took exception. All over Kirkwall. Isabela did come back with the book though.”

“Is she away somewhere?”

“You could say that. I became champion after defeating the Arishok in a duel Fenris sort of set up. After everything was said and done we had an amazing argument about the duel and I haven’t seen her since.” Vincent was trying to think of something to say when Hawke waved his hand dismissively. “That’s enough about my love life. I heard you went to see Fenris the other day.”

“I did,” said Vincent a little puzzled.

“I suppose all that happened was talking?”

“Yes.”

“Pity.” Hawke turned and waved him to follow. “If you’re into men, you should seriously consider having a little fun. Maker knows Fenris could stand to unwind a little.”

Vincent stopped in the balcony doorway, eyes wide with shock. “Pardon?”

Hawke was grinning as he turned. “Sex. I’m usually very forward with anyone who’s as cute as you are but Fenris actually seemed interested. And he shared his wine with you at the Hanged Man which has never been done before.”

“Is everyone here so…?”

“Oh no,” Hawke said laughing. “I’ve been told I’m special more than once.” He turned and gripped Vincent’s shoulder, his expression turning serious. “Joking aside, it sounds like you could use a break from being the man of the hour. Maker only knows how you got here or how you’re going to get back but while you’re here, you might as well enjoy yourself.”

Vincent nodded after a moment and smiled.

“Let’s go find something to snack on before Orana gets started on supper shall we,” Hawke said grinning.

Shaking his head Vincent followed.


End file.
